The House of Grantham: The War Years
by KingdomHeartsNerd
Summary: When the Second World War is declared, The Crawley Family find themselves having to live through the departure of their son, Reginald, to fight in the war and have to deal with the events of the war affecting their lives and the return of Edith and Sybil - along with their families - after nearly twenty years. Story is M but is under T rating so it appears on the site.
1. Declaration of War

**In this Downton Abbey story, I have made some changes to canon, can you see what they are? I have probably made _MORE _changes, since Series 4 hasn't been shown here in the U.K yet, and will probably be radically different to this story.**

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**The House of Grantham: The War Years**

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**Disclaimer:** _Downton Abbey, all related concepts and anything you recognise do not belong to me, I am merely borrowing them to bring you this story - and for my own personal enjoyment - as they actually belong to Jullian Fellowes. Any OC's and things you do not recognise, however, are copyrighted to me, KingdomHeartsNerd__._

**Rating:** _M; this story is listed as a 'T' in the Downton Abbey section on so that people can see it - there is a warning of the status in the small summary._

**Pairings:** _Mary/Matthew, Reginald/Anna_

**Genre:** _Romance/Drama_

**Warnings:** _This story is an 'M' as it contains sex and may contain bad language; if these offend you, do not read this story._

**Story Summary: **_When the Second World War is declared, The Crawley Family find themselves having to live through the departure of their son, Reginald, to fight in the war and have to deal with the events of the war affecting their lives and the return of Edith and Sybil - along with their families - after nearly twenty years. With all three sisters under one roof, and Matthew having to keep the peace, can he fix his relationship with his middle son, or will he lose him forever? And will Reginald - and his cousins Tom Branson Jr and Anthony Strallan Jr - all survive the war? _

**Thank You:** _Thank you to Lady Eleanor Boleyn for brainstorming with me in the last stages of writing this chapter. If you like this, then go and read her stories. They're brilliant!_

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**Chapter I: De****claration of War**

**September 3rd, 1939: 11:05pm**

_"I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final Note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany."_

Reginald Robert Crawley, eighteen years old, tall and thin, with a layer of muscle, dark hair and piercing dark eyes, could still hear the words of Neville Chamberlain declaring that war existed between England and Germany. He knew that he would be off to war before the end of the year; he'd signed up for the army months ago, back when he and his wife had merely beeen betrothed.

Glancing over to his wife, he couldn't help but let a smile creep over his face; Lady Anna Crawley, Viscountess Downton, _née _Lady Anna Napier - daughter and heiress of Evelyn Napier, Viscount Branksome, and his wife Marianne - was a day older than her husband and the two had been married for just over a month; Anna was shorter than her husband by a good three inches and blonde, with kind saphire blue eyes and a petite build.

"How are you feeling, Reg?"

Smiling gently at his wife, he pulled her close and sighed into her hair. "Unsurprised." She looked, confusedly, up at him. "Papa's been going on about the coming war since the beginning of the year; I knew I'd have to fight eventually. It just seems my time has come."

"And you're not scared?"

"Terrified." He replied, reaching out for a glass of wine that Douglas, the thirty five year old butler, was holding out for him. "Just don't tell Henry, or else I'll never hear the end of it. And you? Are you frightened, Anna?"

"Yes." She replied, gently taking his hand. "But not for me. I'm safe here at Downton; it's you I'll worry about. Out there, being bombarded by bullets, bombs and whatever else they throw at you."

"We're going to throw it right back, Anna." Reginald assured her. "Don't worry; I'll be safe - I promise."

"That's not a promise you can make." She replied, staring at him, a frown marring her beautiful face. "So don't make it. Just... Just be careful."

"I will be." He gently kissed his wife, momentarily restraining himself from going any further with her, and, releasing her, allowed her to trott off in the direction of her sister-in-law, Violet.

As he watched her go, downing his glass of wine as he did so, his eyes lingering for slightly too long on her pert bottom, he couldn't help but catch sight of a figure sat in a chair on the other side of the room; the almost sixteen year old Henry Alexander Crawley, who was tall, smart - though less smart than Reginald - moody with an attitude - to which anyone would attest to - and rather plump with less common sense than his elder brother, was staring at the wall.

"Something wrong?"

Reginald sat down opposite Henry and took a glass of wine from the tray; Henry nearly jumped; staring at Reginald he merely gave a smile and relaxed into the chair. "Not really. I'm just worried. You and I both know I'll have to go off to war as well in two years."

"A year - if you conscript early, that is."

"No." Replied Henry. "I'll leave the early stages of the war to you. Besides, you know Mama's intent on getting me married too."

"Ah, yes." Smirked Reginald, tipping his wine glass slightly. "R.C.. So, when will I meet her?"

"Mama doesn't know of her yet."

"Truly?" inquired Reginald, the glass of wine pausing inches from his lips. "You've managed to keep a girl from Mama for _this_ long? It's nearly a year now, isn't it? Well, you did better than I did. Mama found out about Anna within two weeks."

"That's because you were careless!" laughed Henry.

"Maybe so," replied Reginald, shoving his brother's arm affectionately. "But I still commend you. Keeping a girl from Mama for a year is very impressive."

"We speak on the phone - in the evenings, when everyone else goes in for dinner - have you never wondered why I am always late?"

"So, who is R.C. anyway?" asked Reginald. "She must be some girl if you've been able to hide her from Mama for so long."

"R.C.?" inquired a voice; Anna settled herself into the third chair, refused a glass of wine - which made Reginald frown for a moment - and glanced to Henry. "You don't mean Rilanna Cremark, do you? The youngest child and youngest daughter of Richard and Penelope Cremark, the 16th Duke and Duchess of Cremark?"

"I do." Replied Henry, staring shrewdly at his sister-in-law. "But how do you know of her?"

"Rilanna is from an old wealthy Grecian family." Replied Anna, waving a hand to show she only knew the basics. "Somehow they managed to avoid the guillotine during the revolution and survived to spawn a whole brood of nasty little aristocrats just like her. She has a taste for exotic fashion like a lion has a taste for meat - using combined animal furs from the creatures her father has shot to create new kinds of fashions to sell to her high-society friends - and an extensive knowledge of Ornithology."

"A bird expert?" inquired Reginald.

"Exactly." Anna replied. "I've known her for years; never liked her - I merely tolerated her while Mama and Papa tried to create a betrothal between me and the eldest son of the Duke and Duchess. Thankfully, nothing came of it and their eldest boy married his first cousin three years ago... the youngest boy did too, come to think of it. There hasn't been a marriage out of that family since 1831 when Catherine Cremark, the youngest daughter of the Ninth Duke, married the Earl of Trentham - their only child was, according to Mama, stillborn. They're intent on keeping the Grecian blood flowing in the veins."

"Then I'll be the first person to marry into the family who isn't a Cremark."

"You're actually considering marrying her?" wondered Anna; reclining back into the chair, she said, "Good luck to you then, Henry. Good luck, indeed."

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**September 4th, 1939: 01:05am**

Reginald reclined on the bed, the quilt over him; Anna, behind the screen, was changing.

"When will you have to go to war?"

"The beginning of October." He replied, watching his wife's form behind the screen; licking his lips he groaned and said "We-We ship out on the third."

Anna paused for a moment, knowing that her husband could see her. Then, smiling slightly, she picked up her nightgown, sighed sadly and said "Do you have to go? Can't someone else fight the war while you stay here?"

"And do what?" he inquired. "Help Papa with the running of the estate? I already know how to run the estate - Papa's drummed that into me."

"Well, I'll think of something to get you to stay." Anna seemed confident in her statement.

"Oh, will you, now?" Despite his wife not being able to see his features, Reginald couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as he replied.

"Yes." She replied, appearing from behind the screen; Reginald was off the bed in a moment, reaching her, his hands around her waist and his lips against hers. While initially shocked, she soon put all of her force into the kiss. Snatching passionate kisses from one another the two stumbled backwards to the bed, Reginald leading, his hands snaking their way down her body to lift up her nightgown.

As they collapsed onto the bed, her hands pulled open the button on Reginald's sleepshorts and she pulled them down. Seizing his chance, Reginald flipped her over, pinned her to the bed, and lowered himself down. As she felt him penetrate her and begin the ritual movements, she couldn't help but groan in pleasure, especially when he groaned and snatched more kisses from her as her hands clasped his shoulders firmly.

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**September 4th, 1939: 10:30am**

Mary Crawley, Countess of Grantham, was not a woman to be lied to. The previous evening she had seen her eldest two sons whispering together behind her back, and was determined to get to the bottom of the situation. With her daughter-in-law ill and in bed, Mary knew that disturbing her wouldn't be a good thing to do at the moment; she would check on Anna later, after Reginald had left her side.

With her daughters in the library, her youngest son at school and her middle son tending to his horse in the stables, Mary took her chance and headed upstairs, entering Henry's room. Henry's room, which contained a four poster bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a dressing table and a shelf of books, was slightly smaller than Reginald's room and had a different air to it; Reginald's seemed a place of love, while Henry's seemed a place of anything but love.

Moving over to the dressing table, Mary noticed a pile of letters; picking up the first, she read over it. It wasn't what she was looking for, but was signed _'from your dear friend, S.'_; the second letter, a longer letter, she discarded immediately as it was a letter than Reginald had written while he had been at Eton in the summer; the third letter, signed _'R.C.'_ took her interest.

Downstairs, the main door clunked, and Henry's voice echoed up the stairs.

"I'm off to change, Douglas - tell Mama I'll be down for dinner."

"Very good."

Mary pocketed her son's letter and left his room, just disappearing around the corner as her son appeared at the top of the stairs. For a moment, he stared at his mother's retreating form, then threw his riding shirt over his shoulder and disappeared into his room. Immediately, his eyes landed on the stack of letters, which had been moved from where he had left them that morning, and his eyes went wide.

She knew.

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**September 4th, 1939: 21:30pm**

"I've received a phone call from Sybil earlier." Said Mary, Countess of Grantham, that night over dinner.

"Oh?" inquired Matthew, taking a sip of his wine. "What does she want?"

"She wants the family to come here for the duration of the war." Replied Mary, taking some sausages off of the tray that was being held out by Bertrand. "So that they're safe. You understand her worry - Tom's record would go against him: the whole business of arson in 1920 would put them all in danger."

"They're welcome to come here if they wish." Matthew assured her, he too taking some sausages. "Thank you, Bertrand. Now, Mary, Darling, the only problem we have is that I cannot pay for it - if I am seen to be helping an arsonist from Ireland I could lose my position in the House of Lords."

"Of course," she replied. "I can pay for it."

"Out of the question." Matthew informed her. "People will just say that I asked you to do it for me. No, we must... find a way to get them over to England without arrousing suspicion."

"What about Mama?" inquired Mary. "Couldn't she do it? People cannot speak against a mother wanting her daughter at Downton for her safety, surely?"

"That might work, but I shall discuss other options."

"What about your father, Anna?" interrupted Reginald for a moment, cutting up his hash brown potatoes. "He's a friend of the family - couldn't he supply for them?"

"Good idea," agreed Mary. "Evelyn has been friends with the Crawleys since 1913. Your father, if I asked nicely, would be able to do it."

"There's no need to ask nicely, Mama," interrupted Anna to her mother-in-law. "I can call Charles and ask him to ask Papa. Papa should be home by now, and if he isn't, then Charles can send a message to uncle Edmund and he could help."

"What of Edith?" inquired Matthew.

For a moment, Mary bristled, inquiring, "What of her?"

"Well, surely if Sybil is coming to Downton then Edith should too? She is your sister after all."

"Would you believe it?" inquired Mary. "You know Edith and I have never got along. You can tell her that she, Anthony and the children can come here, as long as Edith behaves."

"You're to behave too, Darling." Interrupted Matthew. "Your Grandmother is too old to defend you."

"She's ninety-one, Matthew, and besides, when has being old ever stopped Granny?"

Seeing an argument beginning to develop, Reginald chose to interrupt: his words made his four siblings - Henry, Violet, Cora and James - look up from their plates.

"When does Mary get home from Dresden? With this war on, surely she'll be coming home?"

"She should be arriving home tomorrow." Matthew replied. "She wrote to me last week to say that she was coming home anyway. The feeling is rather bad in Germany apparently, especially towards the English."

"Do you want me to drive down and meet her?"

"No." Matthew said, smiling. "No. Jacobs is driving down to collect her from the station."

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**September 5th, 1939: 11:35am**

The doorbell rang promptly at 11:35am the following morning; in the main Drawing Room, Mary gave a sigh and clenched her teeth as Harold opened the door; a woman, tall, red haired and sixty nine years old, was stood outside. She wore a hat with a large feather on the top, a deep purple coat, and a thick white boa was around her neck.

"Good morning, My Lady." He greeted, his voice a deep, yet quiet baritone.

"Good morning, Harold!" greeted the woman, passing him and entering the main foyer of Downton Abbey. "Where's Douglas?"

"He had to go out, My Lady." Replied Harold, answering the woman's question.

"Indeed?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow. "At this time? In a war?"

"Mrs Angus was indisposed." Harold informed her, moving to take her coat.

"Mrs Angus?" wondered the woman. "I didn't think he was married."

"Douglas's mother, My Lady. Her Ladyship's in the Drawing Room; shall I announce you, My Lady?"

"Naturally," she replied; then, she held up a finger, and continued, "But not in _that _graveyard voice, or you won't be heard across the room!"

"Very good, My Lady." He replied; he passed her, strode across the main foyer and opened the door to the sitting room. "Lady Rosamund!"

Rosamund passed him and strode into the room; the family inside rose, smiling - though Mary's was very forced - as Rosamund cried "Mary, darling!"

"Aunt Rosamund." Mary kissed her aunt on the cheek.

"What a pretty dress," noted Rosamund, as she examined her niece. "Now, my dear, you must teach that young footman of yours to speak up. He announced me as though I were tragic news. Even if I am - which is quite possible - the name should, nevertheless, be heard and clear. So that one is not expected to be like _'Lady Rose'_ or _'Lady Rosaline'_ - I am not the Earl of London's daughters, quite the opposite!" then, she caught sight of Henry. "Henry."

He kissed her on the cheek; she examined him.

"You're looking fat," she said at last, patting his midsection. "You've gained weight. It shows in your face. You should eat less." With that, she took her place in the chair by the door and caught sight of Anna. "And who is this?"

It was Reginald who replied. "Oh, may I present my wife, Lady Anna Napier; my great-aunt, Lady Rosamund Painswick."

"How do you do, Lady Rosamund?" greeted Anna. "Reginald had often spoken of you."

"Kindly I hope?" inquired Rosamund, nodding in acknowledgement of Anna.

"Of course - how else would one speak about a great aunt?"

"Indeed," replied Rosamund in agreement. "Though your great-aunt - Lady Annabelle Arnolds - is a-"

"Do sit down, Reginald - you too, Anna." Interrupted Mary, before her aunt could say something to upset Anna. "I do wonder what has happened to Mary, she should have been here by now."

"So," began Rosamund, pulling off one of her gloves. "This is to welcome Mary home from Germany?"

"Yes, Aunt Rosamund," replied Mary, smiling genially, "We thought it would be nice for her."

"A tea-party for Mary with no tea and no Mary." Noted Rosamund critically, causing Mary to bristle a moment.

"I have rung for the tea, Aunt Rosamund."

"Mary's boat was due into Liverpool an hour ago." Interrupted Henry, trying to take some of the attention away from his mother whom he could tell was suffering under his great-aunt's scrutiny.

"Oh, was it?" inquired Rosamund, plucking off her other glove.

"Yes," interrupted Mary. "You were very punctual, Aunt Rosamund."

"Let's hope Mary's train will be too," said Rosamund. "I'm playing bridge at 7:30 with Susan. You remember - Mama's niece; speaking of whom, is Mama not here?"

The doorbell rang moments later; Reginald was off his seat in an instant, exclaiming "Ah, there she is! Thank heavens!"

"For what?" bristled Rosamund, noting the offence.

"That Mary has arrived, safely," replied James, leaping to his elder brother's defence. At thirteen, James was the youngest child of the Earl and Countess of Grantham; with blue eyes and brown hair, he was the spitting image of his father.

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Harold opened the door.

"Hello, Harold!" the jovial voice of Lady Mary Martha Crawley was the first thing to hit him, followed by the sight of Lady Mary's six trunks, three hat bags and a feather boa case.

"Welcome back, Lady Mary." Replied Harold, allowing her to pass him before heading out of the door. "I'll help Jacobs with the luggage."

"Rose!" cried Mary, catching sight of her favourite servant, who was just making her way down the stairs, and holding out a hand; Rose almost leaped the remaining stairs.

"Oh, welcome home, Lady Mary!" Rose cried, holding up her dress so as not to fall down the stairs. "Oh, it's nice to see you back!"

"It's nice to be back, Rose," Mary assured her. "Where's Mama?"

"They're all in the drawing room, Lady Mary." Rose replied.

"Who?" inquired Mary.

"Lady Rosamund, Lord Reginald, and another young lady." Replied Rose, counting them off on her fingers.

"Oh dear," sighed Mary, annoyed.

"Shall I take your hat and coat?" inquired Rose. "They are waiting with tea for you."

"Oh, I must go upstairs first! Come with me Rose!"

"Yes, Milady," replied Rose, lifting up two small carry cases that Mary had brought in with her. "Your room is all ready."

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Five minutes later, and almost in a run, Mary burst into the Drawing Room. At the sight of the Countess she cried "Mother!" and had crossed the rooms in seconds, almost flying into the arms of the Countess, who had risen to great her.

"Darling, welcome home." The Countess hugged her daughter tightly. "Here's Aunt Rosamund."

Mary whirled around; catching sight of her great-aunt, she said "Oh, sorry, Aunt Rosamund!"

"That's alright, my child, you may kiss me," replied Rosamund; Mary leaned down and kissed her great-aunt on the cheek as her great-aunt examined her critically. "No. No, Germany has not done much for you, no."

"Oh, but it has, Aunt Rosamund!" exclaimed Mary. "It has done so much."

"Mary."

She whirled around; catching sight of Reginald, she cried "Reg! How lovely!" and threw her arms around him tightly.

"May I present my wife, Lady Anna; my sister, Mary."

"How do you do?" inquired Mary, shaking Anna's hand. "And who is your father? London? Hornswoggle? Portchester?"

"Napier."

"Oh, your Evelyn's girl!" exclaimed Mary, recognising Anna. "Thank heavens! I had made up my mind that you were one of The Duke of Dorset's spoilt brats. Horrible, all of them. "

"Sit down, darling, and have your tea." Interrupted the Countess, pouring a cup of tea for Mary.

"And how was the channel crossing?" inquired Rosamund.

"Oh, it was rough," laughed Mary, "Very rough. But I didn't mind. I stayed on deck most of the time. It was so exciting!"

"I trust, Mary, that you were not indisposed?" wondered Violet; often the quiet one in the family, Violet was the closest, of all the siblings, to Mary.

"Oh, no, no," smiled Mary, taking a cucumber sandwich from the plate that Reginald handed to her. "No, I have an excellent stomach, darling. You know that!"

"Tea, Aunt Rosamund?" inquired the Countess, handing the teapot to Rose, who had entered with Mary.

"Thank you," replied Rosamund, "and I will have another of those cucumber sandwiches - if Mary and Henry haven't eaten them all."

"Here you are, Aunt Rosamund." Reginald crossed the room and lowered the plate to his aunt's height; then, chuckling, he added "A handsome husband, or ten thousand a year?"

"Don't be so childish, Reginald," scolded Rosamund; then she said, "thank you," to Mary who handed a cup, which Rose had filled, to Mary.

"How did you find Germany, Mary?" inquired Anna. "Uncle Edmund - that's Viscount Arlesford - says they have a huge army."

"They do." Mary replied, pouring herself a cup of tea and scooping four lumps of sugar into it. "A very large army - nothing compared to ours of course - but a large army nonetheless. The German army seems rather authoritative and arrogant."

"The Germans always were a dogmatic people - if you remember, Mary darling, I suggested Switzerland - the Swiss are far more accomodating."

"Yes, Aunt Rosamund." Agreed the Countess; then, she turned to her daughter. "Now, we must discuss your coming out at Lady London's ball, Darling."

Mary, who had taken a sip of her tea, choked, spraying it over the floor. "What?!"

"Yes, quite right," agreed Rosamund, "and we must do something about your hair."

"Why?!" cried Mary.

"Well, if you can't see that, child," began Rosamund, bristling slightly, "Then I'm afraid it's going to up the business for your mother!"

"What do you think, Reg?" inquired Mary, over her cup of tea. "Am I a fright?"

"Well, you'll have to make something of yourself, Mary." He replied, getting to his feet from his position in the chair opposite her.

"Will I?" Mary's voice and expression both showed that she had no intention of changing.

"God help the man who marries her." Whispered Henry to Reginald as he sat down.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Indeed."

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"And then," continued Mary, rattling on at a thousand miles and hour as she sat in the chair opposite her vanity mirror in her room, "We went on a trip to the Black Forest, which was absolutely creepy! Witches and Warlocks and all sorts of Brothers' Grimm things! Ow!"

Mary had been moving her head that much that Rose, who had been trying to style her hair for dinner, had nearly pulled it out of her head.

"Well, I'm sorry Lady Mary, but you will keep moving about!"

"Oh, wretched, wretched hair!" thundered Mary, flicking it out of her eyes. "Why can't it just hang down or be cut off or something?! Why can't one live like an ordinary mortal?"

"I don't know what you mean by that," began Rose, leaning over, so that she was looking at Mary. "I'm sure every shop girl's just as particular with her hair."

"The difference being that she does it herself." Moaned Mary.

"And a nice mess of it you'd make, I'll bet!" snorted Rose, lifting up the brush from the desk before running it over Mary's hair.

"Rose, don't be naughty." scolded Mary, though she didn't mean a word of it. "I did it myself almost every night in Dresden."

"We needed no ghost from the grave to tell us that." Noted Rose.

"What a funny expression," said Mary, smiling gently at Rose in the mirror. "Where did you hear that?"

"I don't know, My Lady," replied Rose through a mouthful of hairpins. "Where does one hear expressions? They just pop into your head."

"No, but I think that's a quoatation from - Rose, get me my book, will you?"

"Oh, not now, Milady."Replied Rose. "I've got to do your hair for dinner."

"Oh, drat dinner!" erupted Mary. "Drat hair! Drat! Drat! Drat!"

"Milady!" snapped Rose. "I must do your hair!"

"Oh, for heavens sakes, Rose, leave me alone!" Mary was out of the chair in front of her vanity in moments and, hand to her head, plonked herself into another chair nearby.

"Oh, Milady, what a temper!" scolded Rose. "And we were such good friends."

"And so we _are_, Rose dearest, if only you wouldn't fuss so! I'm sure you wouldn't want to do to Lady London's beastly ball looking like a stuffed peacock!"

"I'm sure I'd be lucky enough to get half the chance, Milady."

"Nonsense," replied Mary in reply. "I mean to do something with my life."

There was a knock at the door, and Matthew's voice said "Mary, may I come in?"

"Father!" Mary was out of the chair in an instant, her arms around Matthew's neck as he lifted her off of the floor.

"How's my Maria?" he inquired, laughing. "Wild as ever. What are we going to make of her, Rose? A flaming beauty, eh?"

"I'll say it won't be from want of trying!" agreed Rose.

"Oh, father." Mary kissed her father's cheek happily. "It's so good to see you!"

"And you, my dearest." he agreed, "now, Rose wants to get on with your hair. You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

"Aright, but stay with me, please?" she asked, settling herself into her vanity chair and allowing Rose to continue with her hair.

"Well, of course," he assured her, settling himself in the chair she had been in before. "Well, and how was the good Frau Beck?"

"Wer got on very well - she sends you her best wishes, of course."

"Well, you can thank her for me." Matthew replied. "So, work done, now it's play for a time, eh?"

"Oh, not to much play, I hope, father."

"Nonsense, London will be good for you." He replied. "Even fun I should think - at least after provincial Germany. Besides, I want my girl to shine in society. I won't be a simple politician forever, you know. In fact, if Rose wasn't here, I'd tell you there's hope of a Cabinet Post."

"Oh, father, how wonderful!" cried Mary. "Oh, Rose is as secret as the tomb."

Matthew smiled. "Of course, it's not settled - a great deal relies on one's family in these matters."

"No, father, you're too important." Mary protested.

"No, my dear," he disagreed. "No politician ever gets to the top on his own. He has a brilliant wife behind him, or even an enchanting daughter."

"I'm not very good at enchanting," admitted Mary.

"You just wait until your mother and Rose have finished casting a few spells." He replied, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "It won't come easily to you, you know? You're not your father's daughter for nothing. I've suffered greater agonies in the Drawing Room than ever in the House of Commons."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes," replied Matthew. "But what I can stomach, you can too - of that, I'm sure. For my sake, eh?" She rose and kissed him, and he continued talking. "Now, I must go and change, or I'll be late. I'm dining at home tonight, with the pride of the Crawleys. And your Aunt Rosamund is here - Lord help us."

With that, he left; once the door had closed, Mary smiled, and, sitting in her vanity chair again, said "Well, that's it Rose, I am going to enchant!"

* * *

**September 6th, 1939: 09:00am**

"Tell me, Anna dear, do you see anything of Lady Rilanna Cremark nowadays? I know you were - if only briefly - betrothed to her brother."

Henry, who had just bitten into his fifth crumpet, which was liberally spread with six layers of butter and three layers of jam, choked, causing Reginald to thump him on the back. Moment's later, Henry spluttered "Wh-wh-why would she see someone she dislikes?"

"Henry's right, Mama," agreed Anna. "Rilanna and I have never gotten along - she always thought she was better than me because she was a Duke's daughter while I was just a Viscount's daughter. Can I inquire as to why you asked?"

"The Cremarks have always been like that," noted Rosamund, sipping her tea. "They were insistent that I married William Cremark - he was the fifteenth Duke, though only Lord William Cremark at the time - and were furious when I chose Marmaduke instead. Best decision I ever made."

"I asked, Anna darling," began The Countess, over her tea, "because I found this letter from Henry to Rilanna discussing their relationship - it was in Henry's room."

Henry and Matthew both choked; Henry on the next bite of his crumpet, and Matthew on a strip of bacon.

"Relationship?!" spluttered Matthew, staring at his second son.

"I knew you'd been in my room!" cried Henry; he'd paid no attention to his father.

"We're having a conversation after breakfast." Matthew informed Henry.

"Great!" breathed Henry, sarcastically. "Thank you, Mama. Thank you very much."

With that, he picked up another crumpet, pushed his chair back, got up, strode to the door, turned, said "I'll be in the library, Papa," and left, taking a bite from the crumpet.

* * *

_Please leave a review. For every review you leave, I get inspired to write faster, so if you want the next update of this story, then leave a review! __Thank you!_


	2. The Irish Arrivals

**The House of Grantham: The War Years**

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**Disclaimer:** _Downton Abbey, all related concepts and anything you recognise do not belong to me, I am merely borrowing them to bring you this story - and for my own personal enjoyment - as they actually belong to Jullian Fellowes. Any OC's and things you do not recognise, however, are copyrighted to me, KingdomHeartsNerd__._

**Rating:** _M; this story is listed as a 'T' in the Downton Abbey section on so that people can see it - there is a warning of the status in the small summary._

**Pairings:** _Mary/Matthew, Reginald/Anna, Sybil/Tom_

**Genre:** _Romance/Drama_

**Warnings:** _This story is an 'M' as it contains sex and may contain bad language; if these offend you, do not read this story. This chapter does contain the beginning of a sex scene, though not a whole one._

**Story Summary: **_When the Second World War is declared, The Crawley Family find themselves having to live through the departure of their son, Reginald, to fight in the war and have to deal with the events of the war affecting their lives and the return of Edith and Sybil - along with their families - after nearly twenty years. With all three sisters under one roof, and Matthew having to keep the peace, can he fix his relationship with his middle son, or will he lose him forever? And will Reginald - and his cousins Tom Branson Jr and Anthony Strallan Jr - all survive the war? _

**Thank You:** _Thank you to Lady Eleanor Boleyn for brainstorming with me in the last stages of writing this story. If you like this, then go and read her stories. They're brilliant!_

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**Chapter II: The Irish Arrivals**

**October 1st, 1939: 12:00pm**

As the car pulled into the drive of Downton Abbey, Lady Sybil Cora Branson, _née _Crawley adjusted her hat, and stepped out of the car as Harold held the door open for her. Mary, Matthew, their children, Anna, Cora - Mary and Sybil's mother - and Violet, The Dowager Countess of Grantham, were stood waiting. Henry and Matthew - after their argument in the library in September - were refusing to look at each other or speek to each other, though Matthew was trying to catch his son's eye.

"Mary,"

"Darling,"

The two sisters met in a tight embrace; Sybil and Tom hadn't been to Downton since their daughter, Sybil, had been two.

As Sybil and Mary embraced, Matthew shook the hand of his brother-in-law, Tom Branson, clapping his hand onto Tom's shoulder in a greeting which Tom repeated; Tom Branson was a portly fourty nine year old irishman who's brown hair was beginning to grey at the sides; his face was a little more lined, and his clothes were a little strained around his midsection, but he looked perfectly happy.

"Welcome to Downton," greeted Mary.

"It's good to be back," Sybil informed her, now embracing her mother.

"Where's Sybbie?"

"Sybil, darling, can you come out here? Bring Tommy and the others with you."

Nineteen year old Sybil Branson emerged from the car, adjusting a lock of her black hair; tall, thin, beautiful, and immaculately dressed, with long flowing dark brown hair, she looked like a younger version of her mother, though Tom's eyes twinkled out from their sockets.

As young Sybil embraced her family, someone else appeared in the doorway of the car; he was tall, lithe, yet muscular, had dark brown hair in the latest style and like his sister was immaculately dressed. The almost eighteen year old Tom Branson Jr, who was two months off of his eighteenth birthday and commonly known as Tommy, descended the steps of the car in a matter of second and embraced Reginald, thumping his fist against that of his cousins' in a friendly greeting. Though the two had not seen each other in nearly seventeen years, the friendship between them hadn't been diluted.

"Robbie, hurry up, will you?" called Tommy over his shoulder as he went to embrace the Dowager Countess.

Another person emerged from the car; Robert Branson, a month off his seventeenth birthday and commonly known as Robbie, was shorter, stouter and plumper than Tommy, but no less immaculately dressed; while Tommy's hair was in the latest fashion, Robbie's hair looked rather like his mother's; curly, dark brown and under a pork-pie hat, it cascaded down his shoulders in curls. Unlike his elder brother, Robbie actually turned and held out a hand; a long thin hand emerged from the car and took the hand of Robbie.

Maria-Anne Branson, sixteen years old, was the last to emerge; like her siblings, she had dark brown hair, though hers was so curly that it nearly obscured her face; immaculately dressed, tall and curvy, she was a mixture of her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother in stature, but unlike her brothers, had the disposition of her mother.

"Thank you," said Maria-Anne as she let go of her brother's hand and joined her siblings.

Cora - Mary's mother, and the former Countess of Grantham - was cooing loudly, pulling her grandchildren into a tight grip and planting kisses on their heads; she had never met Robbie or Maria-Anne, who had been born in Ireland, and she hadn't seen Tommy since he was a baby and Sybbie since she was two.

"Ma!" cried Robbie; Sybil just laughed and ushered her children inside as Tom and Matthew followed them inside with the rest of the family.

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**21:50pm**

After dinner that night, the atmosphere was a friendly one, though Henry still refused to meet the eyes of his father; Tom, Mary, Sybil, Reginald, Anna, Matthew, Cora and Henry all sat in the library. Violet, being ninety one years of age, had gone home for the night.

"So, Reginald, how long have you and Anna been married?"

"Two months, Aunt Sybil," replied Reginald, smiling, as his arms curled around Anna's waist and she snuggled against him, her arms gently sliding up the bottom of his shirt; Henry pointedly looked away. "We were married on the 31st of July."

"And you are Evelyn's heiress?"

"Yes," Anna smiled in reply to Sybil's question. "Charles would have been, but the original holder of the title in 1666 only had a daughter, so the Viscountcy was granted with the proviso of it being able to pass to the eldest child - irregardless of gender - and that person would become heir or heiress; it prevented the title from going extinct immediately after being granted. Charles is two minutes younger than me, so I am Papa's heiress."

"And Reginald shot high and scored when he married you, didn't he?" commented Henry, chuckling. Mary and Matthew glared at him, Anna smiled, and Reginald shoved his shoulder.

"Henry, be nice!" scolded Mary; Sybil snorted to herself and shared a look with Tom and Matthew to Mary's indignation.

"It's alright," Reginald replied, "He's only joking. After all, he helped me keep Anna hidden from you, Mama, so he's allowed to joke."

"Where are the girls?" inquired Cora, taking a chance at a pause in the conversation.

"The girls are getting ready for bed." Matthew replied. "James is too. I want them to be wide awake when Reginald goes off to war on Tuesday."

"We'd best be going too, Papa." said Reginald, "Otherwise I won't be waking up early enough to go to war." He lifted Anna up with him and the two left the room, leaving the remaining adults alone.

Once the door had closed, Sybil visibly slumped.

"Tommy is still determined to join the Navy?" inquired Mary, knowing what was worrying her sister.

"He is," replied Tom, "Sybil has tried to talk him out of going, but he is determined. She's been worried sick ever since he announced his plans."

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**October 2nd, 1939: 08:55am**

Reginald met Tommy in the hallway the next morning. The two stopped when they caught sight of each other.

"I heard Mama say that you intend to join the Navy, Tommy?" inquired Reginald.

Tommy looked around, then pulled Reginald into an alcove. Glancing around again, to make sure that his mother was nowhere in sight, he spoke, "It's true. I'm joining the navy; I may as well do my part."

"The War isn't between Ireland and Germany."

"No, but it is between The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and Germany; Ireland - at least Northern Ireland, where we Bransons reside - is part of the United Kingdom; it has been since shortly before I was born. That makes the War part of my concern too."

"Aunt Sybil must be terribly worried - Uncle Tom too."

"They are," sighed Tommy. "Mama especially; I saw her, the morning before we left, crying over my baby pictures. It was embrassing. I'm glad she cares, I just wish..."

"That she would hide it around others?" finished Reginald. "I get that all the time with Mama. When I went off to Cambridge last September she was in floods of tears - in public too!"

"I like it as much as any other Earl's grandson - just not in public." agreed Tommy, "I'm not a child anymore - I'm nearly eighteen and I wish Mama would realise that. When I come back from Training in London I will be eighteen."

"Don't worry - she'll come around eventually." Reginald assured him, "When she sees how _'dashing and pretty'_ you look in your uniform she'll be throwing you into the war! Besides, you only have two and a half months until you turn eighteen and can legally sign up anyway."

"Tommy?"

"Oh, Lord, it's my mother!" exclaimed Tommy, looking around for her, "Quick, come on, this way!"

Reginald smiled and ushered Tommy away before following; moments later Sybil, looking worried, appeared in the distance.

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**October 3rd, 1939: 10:00am**

When Anna awoke the following morning and remembered that it was Tuesday, her heart plumetted. Today was the day she could lose her husband. Possibly forever. She rolled over, allowing an arm to gently fall over her husband's side; he was sleeping on his side, facing the other wall.

Feeling his wife's arm on him, he stirred with a gentle yawn, scratching his chest as he did so, before rolling over to face her. He smiled at her, then kissed her and said "Good morning,"

"What is so good about it?" she grumbled, sitting up and crossing her arms, "You're leaving me. Possibly forever."

"Not forever," he assured her, pulling her closer; both were naked and as he held her close, he took in her scent as she leaned against him. "I promise it won't be forever. I'll come home in one piece."

"And if you don't?" she inquired, sadly.

"Then you'll be comfortably provided for as my widow and Henry will become heir." He assured her.

"I don't want to be comfortably provided for if you're not there," she replied, sadly, "The only things I want are to be happily married to you and for my family to come out of this war in one piece,"

Reginald smiled, kissed her again and said, "We'll come out of this war in one piece, and when it's over we can start making little baby Crawleys. Beautiful little girls to be the spitting image of their mother and strapping lads to be the spitting image of me."

"Well, last night was certainly a start; it certainly wasn't an early night, like you promised your father,"

"No," he agreed, smiling happily as he reminisced on the previous night, "But definitely worth it. And so much better than an early night. It was your fault anyway; you know as well as I do that I can never resist you when you do what you did."

She chuckled, then glanced to the clock on the wall, before saying, "We should get dressed,"

"But that would be such a waste," he protested, "Can't I have you - just one more time - before I go off to war?"

He began to slid downwards under the quilt; Anna protested, "No, Reg! What if the servants walk in on - Ohhh," she groaned in pleasure and Reginald slid upwards, revealing himself from under the quilt.

"The servants won't walk in on us - they know we share a bed, so our activities in said bed shouldn't surprise them if they do walk in. Now, let me show you how much I'm going to miss you when I'm at war."

With that, he crushed his lips against hers, pushed her down onto the bed and had his way with her.

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**12:00pm**

"What's keeping Reginald?"

"Perhaps the fact that he's a young married man who is not going to see his wife again for seven months - or possibly ever?" inquired Henry; he knew he was right, though phrased it like a question to entice a response.

"What does that have to do with anything?" inquired Violet.

"Oh, honestly, great-granny!" sighed Henry in annoyance, "They're having sex before he leaves! He might die in battle out there and she wants to have one last moment with him - is that too much to ask?"

"When it nearly makes him late," replied Violet, "then yes, it is."

Matthew stared at his watch, then glanced up to the stairs at the sound of footsteps. Reginald, dressed in the miliarty style standard unit outfit was stood at the top of the stairs; he adjusted himself momentarily, shouldered his gun and headed down the stairs to his family.

"You cut it close,"

"I'm here, aren't I?" grunted Reginald to his father.

As Mary threw her arms around Reginald, crying, "Oh, my baby!", Henry caught sight of Anna, looking forlornly down from the upper balcony as she watched her husband depart and as Reginald said his goodbyes, clapped a hand against Henry's and pulled him into a hug - Henry protesting the whole time - before releasing him and moving on, Henry slinked up the stairs, stopping by Anna's side.

"He'll be alright," he said, putting a hand on her hand, which was clutching the balcony tightly.

"Will he?" she inquired, watching Reginald hug a sobbing James, who clung to him tightly and had to be pried off of Reginald.

"Yes," Henry assured her, "He knows that he has you to return to."

"You can be nice when you want to be," she mused, smiling down at Reginald, with Henry repeating the action, as he lifted a hand in acknowledgement and then left through the open door, leaving his brother, sisters and mother sobbing at his departure.

"Don't tell anyone," he replied, seriously, "I have appearances to keep."

She chuckled, though he could sense the sadness underneath it; he smiled, rubbed her hand and said, "Don't worry; he'll be home in May,"

"Yes," she smiled, watching the family from down below move off into their respective daily activities, "Yes, he will."

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